What's Broken?
by restlessxpen
Summary: When the cable guy shows up at her apartment, Bella's left wondering what exactly he's come to fix-the television, or her? *Entry for the Don't Mess With the Help Contest.


**Twi-Fic Promotions "Don't Mess With the Help" Contest**

**Story Title: **What's Broken?  
**Pen name: **restlessxpen  
**Disclaimer: **All characters and similar matter belong to Stephenie Meyer. She's a genius.

_To view all other entries for the "Don't Mess With the Help Contest" visit the C2 community here __www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/~dontmesswiththehelpcontest _

**Author Notes: **A big, sloppy kiss of thanks goes to jkane180 for being my beta for this fic. Without her, it wouldn't have been nearly as sweet.

* * *

"For the love of Christ, who the fuck is banging on my fucking door?"

Bella Newton attempted to lift her head, but there was a weight attached to her scalp that protested fiercely against her ever moving her petite little body off of the couch. Her clothes from the day before were twisted uncomfortably around her. The pant suit she'd worn to the fundraiser smelled faintly of vomit, and she had a dim recollection of having some splashed onto the bottom of her left pant leg when her best friend, Angela, had lost her lunch after a little too much fun with booze.

The persistent fist banged on the door of her apartment again, and Bella felt the hammer-like echoes pounding away inside of her skull. Her bones were going to fracture with the noise, she knew, and she lifted her hands to either side of her head as if to stop it.

"Who the fuck is it?" she shouted.

"Cable guy!" the mystery person replied.

Groaning unhappily to herself, Bella took a second to recall why the hell the cable guy would be banging on her door during the early hours of two P.M. Attempting to find her gravitational center, she slowly rolled from the couch to the floor, landing on her knees. Her world spun with the large amount of liquor she had consumed herself, and she cursed her husband, Mike, for scheduling the appointment with the cable company today. He knew very well about the fundraiser the night before, and, knowing her, he should have known that she would be hung-over the next day.

A hysterical laugh bubbled up her throat as Bella reminded herself that Mike Newton knew nothing about her. He didn't know how much she hated him, how she had only married him for his money, or how his tiny penis nightly came light years away from finding the happy place deep inside her pussy that would light her world on fire.

On her hands and knees, Bella felt her pearl necklace swing forward, tapping impatiently against her chin. Her hair spilled forward, covering her face, but she was relieved that it didn't smell like vomit. Clumsily using the couch for support, she climbed to her feet. The heels still strapped to her feet seemed to mock her foolish rise to her feet, but she ignored them and carefully headed for the door.

She passed a mirror in the hall, paused to straighten the disarray of her hair, and then clasped the doorknob, twisted, pulled, and greeted her guest.

"Mrs. Newton?"

Bella wobbled slightly in her heels, but it might not have been due entirely to the leftover alcohol. The man standing in her doorway was not of the sober world, she could assure herself of that. He had to be some booze-induced fantasy, because no cable guy ever looked like _that_. It was like a written law, or something.

"Did Jessi send you?" she asked, dumbly.

Still being half-drunk warranted a bit of stupidity though, she thought. Thinking that her on-again off-again friend Jessica might have sent her a male stripper dressed as a cable guy as a joke wasn't so far-fetched through the haze of her hangover.

The man at her door paused, lifted his brows, and checked something on the clipboard he was carrying.

"No," he said, when his green eyes returned to hers. "Looks like I was sent by a Mr. Mike Newton."

"Oh." Bella sighed a little, staring at his mussed, bronze hair.

It seemed perfectly wispy and disorganized on top of his head, just the right length to run her fingers through as she purred like a kitten on her back. It shouldn't have been so perfect. He was a _cable guy_. His dark blue jumpsuit was scarred and dirty. His stitched-in name tag was coming unraveled.

_Edward_, the red stitches said.

Edward was not supposed to be a sexy name, was it? It shouldn't have been, but he definitely _was_ sexy. Even with the sweat glistening on his brow, a sure product of the roasting hot day that burned outside of her air conditioned apartment.

"Your husband?" he asked.

"Yes."

"So that makes you…?"

"Bella Swan," she said.

Edward tilted his head to the side. "Swan?"  
She felt herself turn red. "Sorry, I meant Newton. I'm Bella Newton."

Though, for a second there, she had fantasized that she was still Bella Swan, still single, still attainable, still perfectly justified in wondering what his ass looked like in that jumpsuit.

"Well, Mrs. Newton, your husband called. He said you were having a problem with your cable?"

He had a perfect mouth. She studied it distractedly, fascinated by how it was not too thin or too plump.

"_Mmm_? Oh, yes. Yes, that's right. It's just static."

Edward's perfect mouth smiled. "Care if I come in and take a look?"

Bella jolted slightly, as if she'd been jabbed in the side by an elbow.

"Sure. Come right in. It's just to your right there."

She pointed, and Edward followed her directions. Shutting the door, Bella went after him, stepping into the living room just behind him. She was embarrassed to realize that the mess she'd brought home the night before was still scattered around her living room. Edward paused, surveying the room before crossing to the television.

"Rough night?" he asked.

Bella felt herself turn a darker shade of scarlet. Wasn't that an inappropriate question to ask an employer? Even if it was only a quick job, and they were only the employer for the twenty or so minutes it took to fix the problem? Telling herself she would not look at his ass, Bella cleared her throat.

"How'd you guess?"

Edward paused, turning back to her. He looked at the bottles and then back at her. There was something about the crystal clear quality of his green eyes that made her feel like he could see right through her, like he could see right back into her past and the night before.

"You sort of smell like vomit," he said.

Bella choked a little, not at all expecting the subtle insult. She _did_ smell like vomit, but there was no reason to point out the trivial, embarrassing fact. Not enjoying the way the corner of his mouth lifted in a smug little smirk, Bella found that even the most beautiful man was an annoyance. Being married to Mike should have taught her better.

"Really?" she said, her tone dry. "You sort of smell like an ass."

Edward's smirk lifted into a grin. "Now you're just being completely inappropriate, Mrs. Newton."

"Inappropriate?" Bella scoffed. "How is that? You're the one here to fix the cable and making comments about my private life."

"You ogled me when you opened the door, tried to pass yourself off as an unmarried woman, and then stared at my ass for the five seconds it took me to walk over here."

Was this really happening? Was she really having this conversation with her cable guy? This gorgeous, god-like cable guy? She must have still been hallucinating from the night before. Edward, the cable guy, didn't really exist. She was imagining the man standing in her living room and the way he seemed to be flirting with her.

"What's your last name?" she asked.

"Cullen," he told her.

She nodded. "Fuck you, Mr. Cullen, this is my house."

He nodded as well, glancing around the living room again. "It is your house. A nice, empty house. You spend a lot of time here alone, Ms. Swan?"

Bella hissed, "It's Mrs. Newton."

"Is it?" Edward asked, feigning surprised. "Well, Mrs. Newton, I've been your cable guy for three years now, and this is the first time you've bothered to notice me, but I've noticed you."

She opened her mouth, closed it, her anger fading in surprise. Bella was almost certain she was dreaming. She didn't know how to respond to Edward, to the man she could not remember seeing before in her life. It seemed like an awfully strange conversation to be having with a cable man. She wondered if she had woken up at all from her sleep on the couch.

"What? I—I don't usually take care of these matters."

"Right," Edward agreed. "Your husband does. I've met him. Nothing too impressive. How well does he attend to _your_ matters, Mrs. Newton?"

"I—What? What are you talking about? You're supposed to be fixing the cable."

Bella had gone from confused to unnerved. No longer concerned with the television—if he ever even had been at all—Edward had started to retreat back the way he'd come into the house, edging closer to her. There was something about him that she couldn't explain. Something about the intelligence of his eyes, something about the hollowness of his cheeks, the sharpness of his bones, and the five o'clock shadow growing on his chin that really did_ something_ to her.

She felt a passing anxiety that she had let a fraud into her house, that he was actually a serial killer. Weren't they supposed to be incredibly handsome and known to ramble on about things that didn't make sense. He spoke to her like he knew her. Had he been stalking her, spying on her? Or could he really take that much notice of her the few times he'd been to her house?

"I'm going to fix something in this house," he said, "but it's not the cable."

Bella remembered that the best way to handle a completely whacked fuck job was to keep them talking.

"There's nothing else broken."

Edward laughed. "You don't even know, do you?"

"Know what?"

"I'm the technician," he said, "that works at your office. Unlike you, I don't have a fortune behind me. I have to have two jobs to survive in these shark infested waters."

He worked at her studio? Bella wracked her brain, but she knew that, no matter what kind of creeper he was turning out to be, she would have remembered his fucking brilliant face. It deserved to be painted. At the very least, it warranted the necessity to be burned into a person's retina for a lifetime.

"I'm sorry. I—I don't really know any of the techies."

Edward shrugged, setting his clipboard onto her coffee table. He took another step toward her.

"That's all right. I know you. You're the boss-woman. Real uptight, real fucking pretty, no idea what her blouses do to a guy like me."

So he was that type of serial killer—the type that worked alongside his victim, grew jealous because he couldn't have her, and eventually murdered her. Bella wondered if her dying thought was really going to be, "Well, at least he's hot."

"I'm not really sure…What are you here for exactly?"

"Something like this."

Bella closed her eyes against the dagger she knew he had to be pulling out of his pocket, but the stab was against her mouth and not her heart. Gasping a little, she felt Edward's mouth against hers as he moved forward to kiss her, and it was a lot like being zapped by high wattage electricity. He coaxed her lips apart with his tongue, and then he helped himself to the goods inside. Startled, confused, still half-certain she was dreaming, Bella could do nothing but hold onto his shoulders and hope that his plan still really wasn't to kill her.

Though she did not have a hard time imagining that a kiss like this could kill anyone.

She had never been kissed like this before. Mike Newton was a terrible kisser.

"I've wanted you since my first day at the office," Edward growled against her mouth. "What a stroke of luck that your husband hired me to fix the cable, huh?"

He laughed against her mouth. It bubbled past her lips, and it made her feel as if she was laughing too. _Was_ she laughing? She felt a little hysterical with this sexy stranger in her house, kissing her until she wasn't sure who the hell she was anymore or how she'd gotten to this place.

"Edward," she groaned. "Who are you really?"

His hands worked between them, freeing her of her suit one button at a time.

"I'm just the cable guy," he told her, sliding her pants away from her hips.

He wasn't just the cable guy, Bella knew, as his fingers stripped away her lace underwear. He was otherworldly. He was either super human, or he was a figment of her imagination. He was her savior, her transportation away from her dull, unhappy life with Mike. He was her X-rated fairytale.

"Unbutton my pants, Bella," he instructed.

She obeyed, blindly. Her thumbs trembled as she worked with his pants to free what could only be gold underneath his button and zipper. She pulled his pants down over his hips, and he stood in his boxer shorts. Edward helped himself out of those, and Bella feasted her eyes on the long, hard treasure of Zeus himself. The lightning-wielding god couldn't have been better endowed, and he'd been the one known for fucking women in any form that would allow him to _get some_.

Bella salivated helplessly, feeling weak in the limbs at just the sight. Edward laughed, aware of her fixation, and shoved her back. Her legs bumped against the end of the couch, and she fell into the cushions as Edward climbed on top.

"Bella." His green eyes were so fucking mesmerizing.

"Yes?"

"We were meant to be together, you know. Mr. Newton never stood a chance."

Practically aching with anticipation, she nodded and spread her legs. Edward's crooked grin heated her blood, and she closed her eyes, waiting for the tip of his glorious dick to invade her most sacred, starving land between her thighs.

Bella gasped when his tip touched her folds as the same electric current that had rushed through her when their mouths touched was now rushing through the most sensitive part of her body. Already she could feel herself building towards a climax that promised to be unlike any other.

"Do you feel that, Bella?" Edward asked as he slowly pressed himself inside her. "No one else can do that for you."

His hips met her, and his cock was fully sheathed inside her. Bella cried out in pleasure; she'd never experienced such a feeling of fullness. He pulled slowly out of her and she cried out again with a sense of loss.

Never fully exiting, he began moving in and out slowly. Though his pace was slow, Bella's body responded to Edward's and she reached orgasm quickly.

"No one else can do that either," he chuckled, continuing his pace as she rode out her orgasm.

"No one else," she agreed in a breathy sigh when she could speak again. No one else had ever reached so far inside her. No one else had ever felt so right inside her.

Bella wrapped her legs around Edward's waist and her arms around his neck. She pulled his mouth down to hers while using the leverage of her legs to encourage a faster pace. Their tongues tangled as he responded to her body's unspoken request, thrusting into her more quickly.

Bella broke the kiss when another orgasm hit. She threw her head back and screamed, "Edward!"

"Yes, Bella," he encouraged.

Just when Bella thought she could catch her breath again, Edward began pounding into her at a speed that proved his godliness. No _cable guy_ could possibly fuck so fantastically. She worked her hips harder, attempting to keep up with him.

"I'm going to come inside you, Bella, and you're going to milk my cock again while I do."

"Yes." Bella voiced her affirmative even as her body proved it's agreement as well. A third orgasm hit her, making her cry out his name again.

Edward grunted as he released his seed inside her. "Good girl," he smiled down at her.

"Edward, how did…? But… And you…" Bella started and stopped, unable to articulate her astonishment.

"I told you we were meant to be together." He gave her a brief kiss before moving off of, and out of, her.

Bella could only nod again, feeling exhaustion set back in.

"I think everything's fixed here," Edward said, and though her eyes had drifted closed, Bella could hear his smile in his voice.

"All fixed," she confirmed.

Though she drifted into unconsciousness, she had never been more alive.

()()()()()()()

"Bella? Bella, sweetheart."

Bella opened her eyes slowly, her body aching in strange places but feeling gloriously languid, as if she'd just risen from a hot bath. The room around her spun once before steadying itself, and Mike came into view above her. She swallowed, tasting the sickly sweet remnants of alcohol.

"Mmm?" she mumbled.

"The cable guy will be here soon. I thought you might want to clean yourself up a little. You smell sort of like vomit."

Bella blinked, wondering what he was talking about. The cable guy had already been there. He hadn't exactly fixed the cable, but he'd been at their house, and he had fixed _something_. He'd fixed _her_. She'd thought that the velvet pocket between her thighs had dried up and died, but he had repaired it, and she had never felt better.

If not just a little hung-over.

"He was already here," she murmured.

"The cable guy?" Mike asked, his brows rising.

"Yes. He—He'll be back though. The—uh—cable isn't fixed yet. He said it was a very interesting project. It'll take time and several visits."

Each visit would be scheduled around Mike's schedule at work, each one appointed a day and time when he would be gone, and she and Edward would be given free reign of the apartment. She wondered what it would be like to fuck him in the kitchen while he wore Mike's stupid, "Kiss the Cook," apron.

"Bella, you must have been dreaming. I've been here all morning. You've been passed out. No one else has been here."

Bella's brows drew together as she wondered what her husband's deal was. He'd been at work, at a conference, and she'd been here, fucking their help.

"No, I—"

The doorbell rang, and Bella fell immediately silent. Giving her an I-told-you-so look, Mike disappeared to answer the door. She listened to him greeting their guest, to the guest's masculine voice as he replied, and then the door was shutting and footsteps could be heard approaching, and Mike stepped into the living room with Edward Cullen trailing behind him.

The green-eyed man shared a somewhat distracted smile with her before looking back at Mike and not giving her a second glance.

"Is this the problem television?" he asked.

Mike nodded. "That'd be it."

"I'll just check it out. Shouldn't be too long."

Bella watched Edward move away from her, distant and distracted, and she realized, as she stared at his beautiful ass, that it had all been a dream.

A _fucking_ dream.

She looked up at Mike, feeling the need to scream rising steadily up her throat, and he smiled ignorantly at her while Edward—the sex god—Cullen worked on their television, blissfully unaware that he was supposed to be baying in heat for her.

"I need some water," she choked.

Mike looked slightly concerned, and Bella was glad that it at least took the stupid smile off of his face.

"Sure thing, sweetheart. Are you going to be all right?"

"I don't feel so well."

"All right, I'll be right back with that, babe."

Her husband obediently disappeared toward the kitchen as Bella felt her stomach roll unhappily. Groaning, she drew her knees to her chest, propping her elbows on them so that she could bury her face into her hands.

_How could it just have been a dream?_ she wondered.

She could hear Mike rummaging in the kitchen. He had started to whistle to himself.

"Bella."

She started, looking up. Edward had turned from the television for a moment, a small smile on his lips.

"Y-Yes?"

"Round two tonight. You said your husband has a late shift, right?"

"W-What?"

"Leave a key under the mat. Wear something sexy, all right?"

Bella opened her mouth in an attempt to form some sort of reply, but Mike reappeared at that second, water glass in hand. She took it from him, feeling strangely numb and on fire at the same time. She glanced at Edward, but he'd already gone back to work.

She felt crazy.

Was _she crazy?_ Bella had to wonder. _Or was she really fucking the cable guy?_

()()()()()()

"Mr. Newton, your six o'clock appointment has arrived."

Grinning, Mike Newton ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair, reclining in his plush seat behind his desk. He extended an arm to press the intercom button.

"Send her in."

He had been expecting his six o'clock. She was his only appointment for the evening, and he'd already confirmed her arrival earlier in the day. They'd already had their first meeting that morning, when his wife, Bella, had been passed out drunk on his living room couch. It was typical of Mrs. Newton. She didn't have the balls to face the world sober, and it was one of the qualities that had quickly turned him off of his wife not long after their marriage.

That had been around the time when he'd first met Six—as he liked to call her, because it was the usual time of their meetings—when she'd strolled into his office looking for financial advice, and he'd done more mathematics in her pants than in his books.

Mike Newton loved his affair more than he loved his wife, but Bella being in the mix was what made it interesting. As she'd snoozed on the couch, he'd fucked Six in the parking garage inside their Mercedes. When she'd whined drunkenly from the couch as the cable guy repaired their television, he'd made a call to Six while getting Bella a glass of water. He had confirmed their activities for that night, and then he had gone back to the living room, insisting again to Bella that he had been there the entire day.

Sometimes, he just wanted to shout in her face that he was screwing someone else to see if it would bring her out of her drunken stupor.

There was a soft knock on his door, and Mike imagined the small knuckles, the velvet skin, of the woman that was just outside his office.

"Come in," he called.

The door cracked open, and his Six stepped in.

She was a gloriously slender and tall red-head. She had killer green eyes and the coy, knowing smile of a cat. She had claws like one too. They were long and painted green. They matched the emerald necklace he'd bought her near the beginning of their affair that always remained nestled between her two perfect breasts.

"Sweetheart," he greeted his six o'clock, Victoria Nolan.

"Mr. Newton, your six o'clock is finally here, and she's glad to see you again," Victoria said, grinning.

Mike laughed, thinking of how sexy her voice was in person, even sexier than each time it called him over his intercom during the day, confirming or adjusting his appointments.

Puckering her lips, Six hitched her skirt slowly up her thighs, and Mike heard angels singing.

Victoria Nolan was his secretary. It amazed Mike each day to think how sexy fucking the _help_ could be.


End file.
